


Aftermath.

by geekgirlgrownup



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bromance, Brotp, Canonical Character Death, Epic Bromance, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Male Friendship, Marvel Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2183094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekgirlgrownup/pseuds/geekgirlgrownup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Guardians have saved the Galaxy from Ronan, but at what cost? Rocket mourns the death of his fallen friend, but is there a chance that not all hope is lost? (Rated teen due to profanity. Fic follows film canon.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath.

**Author's Note:**

> Right off the bat, let me just say I have not (as of yet) read the comics. I have seen the GOTG film multiple times, so plot-wise this short fic takes place between the battle with Ronan and the last scene, and only contains what I know of the characters from the film (and a little Wiki help). It's rated Teen merely cause of some profanity because Rocket (need I say more?).
> 
> Big thanks to Tumblr's alphiriel (ie. one of my dearest friends) for being an awesome beta. Everyone, go follow her Tumblr!
> 
> You can also hear my friend Charley read aloud the entire fic here: http://hoodedcobrava.tumblr.com/post/95858805726/a-reading-of-the-fanfiction-by-scatter-the-nuns
> 
> Spoilers galore ahead. Duh.
> 
> ~*~*~*~~

Rocket stared down at the floor. The carpet was an ugly shade of beige, though prestigiously clean and without a single stain in sight. The sound of voices off in distant rooms and hallways buzzed in his ears, which currently lay flat against his head. The room was kept cooler due to the humidity outside - although with his thick fur he wouldn’t have even noticed - and smelled strangely of vanilla.

These are the things Rocket’s senses could have easily picked up had his mind been at the ready, but it was not. In truth, his mind was eons away and all forces around him were barely acknowledgeable. All he could do was stare numbly at the floor and block the rest of the world out; the world that was hardly worth being on his radar.

In the palms of his paws he cradled a small twig.

To an outsider eye, the whole tableau looked foolish. He knew this. He was well aware of how it all appeared. He didn’t give one flying fuck.

The fur under his eyes was still damp.

He’d already been pulled through an intense hour of questioning from both the feds and from Nova, after which he’d endured a rigorous medical exam from several doctors and scientists. He answered all questions mindlessly, giving the bare minimum information the authorities needed. He allowed himself to be poked and prodded by the medics without complaint. Normally, Rocket would’ve snarled and cursed when any creature tried to get a closer look at his body. There was a reason he wore clothes. He did not want people to see; did not want them to question. He did not want others to take note of the scars and damage left behind from his experimentation days. He did not want to be defined by what they had done to him. But today, of all days, he didn’t complain.

Not once did he let the stick out of his grasp.

Now Rocket sat before a desk in a pristine, high-end office in the Nova Corps medical facility. Behind the desk was a doctor – her name tag read Dr. Appollonia Melcor – who had been one of the medics that examined him not too long before. She had deep purple skin, with jet black hair pulled back in a tight pony-tail. Dr. Melcor must have been in her late forties, and if Rocket had been paying closer attention, he might have noticed the wedding ring on her finger and the framed picture of three little lilac tykes on top her desk. She seemed like a pleasant enough person. The doctor gave Rocket a smile, looking quite pleased that the small mammal was sitting with her in her private office. Rocket noticed none of this. Between staring at the carpeted floor and staring at the bit of plant in his grasp, he was a little preoccupied.

“Well, Mr. Rocket,” Dr. Melcor began, “I’m pleased to say you made it through the whole ordeal fairly intact. Sprained wrist, of course,” she said, with a nod to the bandage on his left arm, “and multiple bruises, as would be anticipated. You also seem to have suffered some minor burn marks, which we believe came from your encounter with the Infinity Stone. That’s what we concluded, from what information we’ve gathered and the similar burns found on your companions.” She glanced down at her notes, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything important. “And finally, we found that some of the stitches on your back came undone – they were very old, in fact, which is incredibly unusual for stitches that old to open -… nonetheless, we stitched them right back up. You’re all in one piece.”

Rocket was faintly surprised that he hadn’t noticed them stitching him back together earlier.

But only faintly.

After Dr. Melcor had finished rambling off all his ailments and battle scars, she stared silently at him for a moment. Rocket hoped she was going to tell him he could leave, but instead her smile grew even more. “Mr. Rocket, I’ve already said it to your companions and I’ll say it to you now: _thank you_.” He managed to glance up, catching the warmness and gentility lit on her face. “You saved all of our lives on Xandar. My wife and children are _alive_ because of you. Sure, our home is a little worse-for-wear, but thanks to you and your friends, we’re still here. We couldn’t ask for any more than that.” The doctor took another pause, as if gathering up the courage to speak her mind. “You’re all heroes in my eyes, no matter what your history. So, thank you. Really. _Thank you_.”

Rocket wanted to respond to this touching display of gratitude. Wanted to, but couldn’t.

Instead, he didn’t say anything. His shoulders tensed and his back slumped; his raccoon eyes hardened their gaze at the ugly floor. Dr. Melcor took notice of the change in his posture and expression. She wasn’t sure what to make of this. Her smile faltered, only for a moment, before she quickly restored it and offered, “Is there anything else I can do?”

It was only then that he spoke his first words, not even bothering to lift his gaze to meet her own. “There’s nothing anyone can do for me, lady.”

Dr. Melcor looked taken aback by his sudden speech. His words had come out harsher, grimier than he had intended, but he wasn’t sorry for the way he sounded. He had every right to be in this sort of state. They should have told her. _Somebody_ should have told her, so she would know to just leave him the hell alone and let him grieve properly.

It took a moment until the good doctor recollected herself. Her smile was gone now, replaced by a look of concern. “What do you mean by that?”

Rocket opened his mouth. Words. There were so many words - _too many words_ \- and he couldn’t find a goddamn few to string together to explain what he was going through.

So he just said one word. The only word that came to his mind to sum up … everything.

“Groot.”

“Groot?”

Dr. Melcor wore a different expression now; one that told Rocket that she didn’t understand but wanted to. Slowly, he held up the stick. It was the first time she’d noticed the piece of _Plantae_ held gently in his paws. There was a click of recognition on her face.

“Oh. The fifth member of your group?” she inquired. He nodded. “No one’s… No one’s really talked to me about him, even though I asked and… well… can you tell me what happened to him?”

This time there was no search for what to say. The words came to Rocket, quickly and loudly.

“Died. Dead. Deceased. Kaput. No longer amongst the living, sweetheart.”

Rocket felt the prickle of tears again. He blinked, hard, willing them away. He had already made a fool of himself, weeping openly in front of Gamora, Drax, and Quill. Like hell he’d let himself cry in front of this chick as well.

She hesitated a breath, before standing and making her way around her desk and over to him. Once in front of Rocket, Dr. Melcor knelt down to meet his eye level. Avoiding her gaze became a much greater challenge.

“May I?”

Now it was his turn to hesitate. Rocket didn’t know this lady. They had never met, nor would they probably ever meet again. Why should he trust her? What if she dropped, or even broke, the only piece remaining of his closest friend? Or worse, what if she took all he had left of Groot? This one piece of bark was all Rocket had been able to snag before the four remaining Guardians had been ushered away from the battle site and put through all of these questionnaires and exams. Rocket didn’t know much, but he knew he could not live with himself if he wasn’t able to keep at least some small part of his friend.

But the woman’s eyes were genuine, kind, and oh so warm and welcoming. She gave him another smile, this one more reassuring and honest than all the previous ones. It was a smile that said: _Trust me._

So he did.

After carefully handing what was left of Groot over, Dr. Melcor stared down at the piece for a small period of time. She then began to roll the stick around with her fingers, studying all the sides, then brought it to her eyes for an even closer look. She sniffed it. Rocket thought for a second she might lick what was left of his dead friend, but it never, thankfully, came to that.

“Is your friend, by any chance, a Flora colossus?”

Rocket was speechless once more, but this time not so much for lack of words but lack of knowledge. He was too embarrassed to admit how he wasn’t exactly sure what Groot’s species was. It had never come up in conversation. Calling him the “big tree guy” had always pretty much covered everything any strangers needed to know. Instead of admitting his ignorance, Rocket crossed his arms and feigned a defensive tone.

“What’s it to you?”

Dr. Melcor lowered the piece of Groot, giving a small shrug accompanied with a growing smile. “It’s just that, well, if he _were_ a Flora colossus, it would just so happen that my roommate in med school wrote his thesis on that particular species. He talked about the race non-stop whenever we hung out together. Their stiff larynxes which make it impossible for us to understand their language, their healing factor and the way they can regrow their branches rapidly, the spore lights they exude, and their amazing ability for… _rebirth_.”

Rocket’s ears twitched at the sound of this. His eyes shot up and his arms uncrossed.

“You mean…?”

She smiled her smile; that beautiful, wonderful smile of the angels.

“If I’m remembering correctly, all we need to do is get your friend here into some fresh soil. Then you’ll have to water him with care and make sure he’s getting plenty of sunlight, of course, but in a week or so from now… Well, I’m sure he’ll be a lot _smaller_ than you’re used to for quite some time, but, even so, he’ll soon – ”

Dr. Melcor ceased speaking when she found a pair of tiny arms around her neck and a furry face buried in her left shoulder. Rocket was not a hugger, by any definition of the word, but for this? For this he would make an exception.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, _thank you_.”

There were those fucking tears again, making him look like a goddamn sissy.

Rocket didn’t care.

After he had released her, he was surprised to see Dr. Melcor had tears in her eyes as well. Wiping them away quickly with the back of her hand, she stood up. “I’ll just give my friend a call and make sure there’s nothing else we’re forgetting, but in the meantime, why don’t I send you to one of our interns? I’m sure they can help you find a pot and some soil to keep your friend in.”

As they made their way down the hallway, Rocket wore a dopey grin. Medics and patients gave him – the scientifically-modified raccoon with the goofy smile and tears in his eyes, clutching what appeared to be a twig – strange glances. In other circumstances, Rocket would tell them to “fuck off” or maybe even threaten them with his gun, but not this time. For once, Rocket was far too busy being happy; happy and goddamn grateful.

He was getting his best friend back, and nothing could ruin that.


End file.
